Clarity
Clarity
Acrylic on reclaimed cardboard shipping box
Double-wall corrugated fiberboard (originally used to package dormitory furniture from a high street brand)
35" x 42" | Red-dot-worthy? Inquire here.
This piece came from a moment where I had to decide: do I pour my time and energy into a conflict I know I’ll win, or do I walk away and protect what matters most?
The cardboard came from a box that once held dorm room furniture. It hit me—that’s where this is all going. In five years, I’ll be unpacking a version of this same box with my son, in a room that isn’t mine, as he starts a life that no longer revolves around me.
So I started to see time differently. Each of the twelve horizontal bars represents a month in the year. The days intersect, creating a matrix across the canvas. This is what a year looks like. But what’s missing?
In the center of the piece, I left space. Layered with color—vibrant, alive, open. That space is the point. That’s what I’m protecting. The spontaneous time. The curiosity. The unscheduled minutes where connection actually happens.
Clarity isn’t just about stepping away from drama. It’s about knowing what you’re saying yes to instead. For me, that was him. Five more years. That’s it. And I’m not trading a single day of it to prove a point.
Clarity
Acrylic on reclaimed cardboard shipping box
Double-wall corrugated fiberboard (originally used to package dormitory furniture from a high street brand)
35" x 42" | Red-dot-worthy? Inquire here.
This piece came from a moment where I had to decide: do I pour my time and energy into a conflict I know I’ll win, or do I walk away and protect what matters most?
The cardboard came from a box that once held dorm room furniture. It hit me—that’s where this is all going. In five years, I’ll be unpacking a version of this same box with my son, in a room that isn’t mine, as he starts a life that no longer revolves around me.
So I started to see time differently. Each of the twelve horizontal bars represents a month in the year. The days intersect, creating a matrix across the canvas. This is what a year looks like. But what’s missing?
In the center of the piece, I left space. Layered with color—vibrant, alive, open. That space is the point. That’s what I’m protecting. The spontaneous time. The curiosity. The unscheduled minutes where connection actually happens.
Clarity isn’t just about stepping away from drama. It’s about knowing what you’re saying yes to instead. For me, that was him. Five more years. That’s it. And I’m not trading a single day of it to prove a point.
Clarity
Acrylic on reclaimed cardboard shipping box
Double-wall corrugated fiberboard (originally used to package dormitory furniture from a high street brand)
35" x 42" | Red-dot-worthy? Inquire here.
This piece came from a moment where I had to decide: do I pour my time and energy into a conflict I know I’ll win, or do I walk away and protect what matters most?
The cardboard came from a box that once held dorm room furniture. It hit me—that’s where this is all going. In five years, I’ll be unpacking a version of this same box with my son, in a room that isn’t mine, as he starts a life that no longer revolves around me.
So I started to see time differently. Each of the twelve horizontal bars represents a month in the year. The days intersect, creating a matrix across the canvas. This is what a year looks like. But what’s missing?
In the center of the piece, I left space. Layered with color—vibrant, alive, open. That space is the point. That’s what I’m protecting. The spontaneous time. The curiosity. The unscheduled minutes where connection actually happens.
Clarity isn’t just about stepping away from drama. It’s about knowing what you’re saying yes to instead. For me, that was him. Five more years. That’s it. And I’m not trading a single day of it to prove a point.